


"…the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust…"  J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

by nothing_in_particular



Category: Plan B (2009)
Genre: M/M, Marco Beger, Post canon, Some awkward sex, some canon knowledge required
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 17:45:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1478488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothing_in_particular/pseuds/nothing_in_particular
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The film Plan B by Argentinian Director Marco Berger, with the outstanding Manuel Vignau and Lucas Ferraro is one you can become totally obsessed with and that is exactly what happened to me.  Plan B ended at the beginning, or at least the beginning for Pablo and Bruno, I just wanted to see more and so I wrote a sequel... </p><p>I have now finally posted another story in my Pablo and Bruno collection. Do check it out. It pretty much continues from here. </p><p>Please do check out http://theviewmasters.tumblr.com/ a labour of love by fellow Berger fan Charlidos who has been majorly supportive of my writing, although I may have let her down with my tardiness somewhat. </p><p>Do enjoy..</p>
            </blockquote>





	"…the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust…"  J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [charlidos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlidos/gifts).



** Never Land **

** Bruno **

 

 _“The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease for ever to be able to do it.”_ _  
J.M.Barrie - Peter Pan_

As a child life had seemed so fluid, identity ebbed and flowed, one day he was a lion, the other day be was a pirate, his existence was full of stories and adventures, emotions were strong and overwhelming.

He remembered vividly the night his grandfather had taken him to see the full moon rising in the field opposite their house. It was so large, and so white that Bruno felt it would swallow him up. He was transfixed, he was elated, he was the moon and the moon was him, he wasn’t a whole boy anymore he was a series of elements, weaving and moving and re-forming time and time and time again. He could be anything. He could fly!

As he grew older his personality fixed. He became solid, like stone. He was Bruno, an electrician and carpenter of sorts, loud, funny, a teller of stories, a giver of parties, a swaggering, jocular, joint smoking man. At first glance all seemed obvious, but underneath a complexity, a deviousness, a lover of films, music and poetry, an intense, selfish, hopelessly romantic, impetuous and wild, lost boy.

 But still. He couldn’t fly.

 The moon was just a rock floating in space.

 Love ended. Women bored you.

 And then he met Pablo.

 When he first saw him in the park with Laura- the thought that came clear into his head - clear like a school bell was ‘beautiful’.

 He was - beautiful.

 And then Bruno felt this clean, cold shard of jealousy, like he had done as a child when someone had taken a toy he hadn’t played with in months.

 ‘The Plan’ was absurd, ludicrous. Who had he been trying to kid? It had felt real to him at the start. Laura wouldn’t have him back so he would seduce her boyfriend and destroy their relationship. He wasn’t sure why he felt so vindictive. Laura had a relaxed view of infidelity but only the heterosexual kind. Only problem with that was he didn’t know any gay men. ‘I’ll do it’ thought Bruno and the idea seemed like a good one.

 ‘His hair is so dark’, he thought as he walked away from the park, ‘so long and straight and dark.’ It had stayed in his  mind all day until he had shaken his head, like a dog getting out of a bath and had knocked the thought straight out, onto the floor where it scuttled away into the corners.  

 ‘The Plan’ pulled him in, like the sea, gently and carefully at first.

 Over the months they were together as friends ‘Bruno’ was eroded. Washed down to his component parts until he was an element again, free and unmoored. He wasn’t a fool when he told Pablo he would become sand and he was not so stupid that he didn’t see the significance of Pablo being water. ( _Come now. You knew, you always knew_.)

 Water cleanses you and gives you life, but Bruno knew deep down that water could drown you, destroy you, so that you no longer existed. He knew also that parts of the sea were so dark and bottomless that a man could get lost forever.

 He was now someone he did not know, he had been re-formed, taken apart and put together as something entirely different. At first this had made him sick. Like being a lost piece of wood in the sea, rocked back and forth. But then Bruno for the first time in years had felt that energy, that childlike joy, that sense that possibilities were endless, that the moon could swallow him whole, that clouds were horses.

 Love. Writ. LARGE.

 Pablo had done this to him and this was his fate. Pablo had scooped him up, reshaped him and built a new Bruno.

 When he had gone to see Pablo, to tell him everything as Victor had suggested, for an instant as Pablo handed over the 20 pesos note, his world had stood still and he felt very hot in the bitterly cold air.

 Bruno never lost anything.

 He’d always got his way.

 As a cocky kid, as a cocky adult, everything he wanted he got and this he wanted more than anything he had ever experienced.

 He’d fucked up.

 He was giving the money back to him.

 He had been rejected.

 It was over.

 And then (an infinite pause) it wasn’t.

 That afternoon in Pablo’s room when they had first made love was so fresh and clear in Bruno’s memory that it was like a film.

 Pablo had ripped off both their clothes so quickly and with such enthusiasm that Bruno has still not found his left shoe.

 Pablo had pulled Bruno close. ‘I’ve got you now and I’m not letting you go’ and he flushed slightly, bit his lip and kissed Bruno hard, their front teeth hitting. They moved apart and looked at each other. Bruno’s heart had felt very still and he thought of that moon, large and white. Gently he had caressed Pablo’s back, he had pulled Pablo against him, and kissed him softly and deeply and they had moved awkwardly together like a crab to the bed.

 Pablo took charge which was good as Bruno had no idea what to do and this mattered. He had to get this right. He was almost paralysed. He didn’t know where to start. Pablo pushed him down, they laughed. Bruno felt a small bubble of panic. His heart racing. _Don’t know what to do. How to do. Want you. Want you._

 Pablo crouched over him, stroking his face, smiling. A finger running down the right hand-side of Bruno’s jaw. Then on to his lips, tracing the outline. Patient, slow caresses.

 Bruno felt himself submerged, cooled, like jumping into a stream on a hot day. His heart rate slowed, his eyes lazily half open watching those full lips whispering to him, sweet loving things, things kept silent and tightly packed away, until now and slowly released, one by one.

 Pablo was shy and soft, but certain, ‘beautiful’ he breathed ‘beautiful’ and then a gentle nuzzle of nose against bearded cheek ‘my man’. A lick to his left ear. ‘Do you like this?’ ‘Yes’ and licking and sucking until Bruno heard himself moan and Pablo moving to his neck and a small bite ‘This ok?’ ‘Oh yes’.

 Question, response, permission.

  _I don’t know you yet in this way, but I will know you in this way, I will love you like this and this and this._

 Silence, soft moans, giggling, swearing, a banging of heads, a bumping of noses.

 A slow, hesitant exploration, nibbling and nuzzling and then Pablo moving his mouth and tongue down Bruno’s body. Bruno holding his breath. He has no reference, no precedent. Then this teasing at his nipples, a dark head looking up, a quiet ‘this ok?’ ‘yes’  and then gentle sucking and pulling and pleasure so intense that Bruno covers his eyes with his arm and in doing so knocks one of Pablo’s photos off the wall. ‘Shit, Shit’. Laughter. ‘It’s ok, I thought it was bollocks anyway’. They both laugh. Pushing the photo off the bed and then it hits the lamp and that’s on the floor. ‘Oh Fuck, Fuck!’ And Pablo laughing into his belly ‘Moron – correction - MY moron’. And then a pause as they stop laughing and Pablo resting his cheek on him and he feels his warm breath and the stubble against the skin of his stomach. Odd but nice. And then a movement further, further down, Pablo’s legs hanging off the bed – as his tongue follows that path of hair whispering ‘my love, my love’.

 Bruno feeling his own hardness is embarrassed.

 And then there is nothing and no one but them, and Bruno looking down to see Pablo’s dark hair and face intent, serious. A small pause. That voice again, shaky now, some hesitancy ‘this ok?’ ‘!’

 And then it is all Pablo, Pablo, Pablo!

 Pablo touching him with his hands and then Pablo touching him with his tongue and then a warm, wet, hot mouth. And Bruno is falling and falling and that long dark hair is in his hands as he cradles Pablo’s head and that movement is relentless and oh so good (who knew?) and darkness and falling and a thousand stars and ‘oh!!!!’.

 Bruno reaches out to Pablo, ‘come here you beautiful fucker’ and he moves forward and pulls him up and kisses him. Ah, how he loves to kiss Pablo. The first time Bruno had kissed Pablo, not more than a peck; his mouth felt electrified. He pulled and pinched his lips ‘what the fuck’ yes what the fuck? What was that?

_Love…it whispers. Game over. A new game begins._

And Bruno is in love and that is that (his love is the only thing about him now that is set in stone.) 

 That night as Bruno sleeps - arms curled tight around Pablo he dreams of standing on the beach. It is night-time and he can see the stars. Pushing with his legs he lifts up and out into the air and suddenly finds himself flying.

 

** When it comes, will it come without warning? **

**_WH Auden_ **

** Pablo **

 

Pablo fell in love with Bruno the first moment he saw him.

There in the Parque Centenario, right there in the broad, hot Argentinean sun, his life moved off its axis. He had been waiting for it to happen. He knew it would. And as always with him he recorded his life through a lense. Camera lifted and oh - there he is, my love, my lover, my hearts ease and ‘click’ and preserved for posterity.

 Typically for him, this moment of earth shattering goodness, this swooping down of love, this clanging bell, this claiming of his heart, this shift  - was silent and quiet and buried. Drag it down, down, down. He would not tell, no never tell, never, never, ever.

 Pablo could keep this secret and he could keep it well, because (whisper and come here) Pablo always knew the owner of his heart would be a man. Hangs head with shame. But don’t tell, just hide it and hide it and hide it and it will go away.      

The girls were (not) enough.

 But fate, well she is a lady and ladies well they never stop, they just persist and you can’t choose your fate can you, she just sits down and chooses you.

 And so they sit there watching _Blind_ and Pablo can’t concentrate on the TV, all he can think of is the man sitting next to him, shirt open (why?) trousers undone (oh why??). His presence is so unnerving. _I want to touch you, touch you, touch you._  

 But Bruno is ‘normal’. He isn’t like Pablo. He is sure of it.

 But then, ah but then.

 Does he see it in Pablo? Is it obvious? Oh the shame, he must hide it, pack it away. It can’t be brought out to the light.

 And then Bruno’s arm around him at the party, Pablo glancing at it helplessly. Please remove it. And then all this stuff about boyfriends and kissing him. Don’t kiss me, I might kiss you back and then, what? Will we get used to it and make out all afternoon? Maybe?

 Bruno is straight.  Bruno is, well what is Bruno? Bruno seems to change, every time Pablo sees him, he shimmers and shifts and peels off another layer and suddenly Pablo doesn’t know who Bruno is. Bruno just looks at him and looks at him and Pablo knows that look. It is love. (It can’t be?)

 And Pablo is sweet and honest and always cleaned his teeth when his Mother told him and sat quietly and earnestly building structures with his Rasti, and never lied or pushed or hit or hurt like some of the other girls and boys, but asked for a camera when he was seven and ‘click’. And there he is winning the art prize at school and here is he at the Instituto Universitario Nacional Del Arte with his portfolio and his glasses and beard and ‘click’.

 All the girls like him. He is gorgeous after all and he listens to them and loves them and dates them and does not betray them, not like the other men, they say, the ones who cheat and lie, and lie and lie. And the girls hurt him, because they can and lie to him, because they do and he takes it, but each time, each time it does hurt a little more. He is a sensitive man; he does not grow a skin. But ‘click’ and then it’s better. Maybe. 

 And Pablo has his photography and his plants and his art and his music and his football (he is Argentinean after all). And he likes to cook, tries to play the guitar but fails and keeps the amp as a bedside table (thrifty). And he works hard, taking commercial photography jobs where he can, cycling back and forth. ‘Click’. He earns little but what he has left over he saves. (So sensible).

 And men, ah yes men. A sneaky look here in the gym, a quick glance here at the football. And Pablo knows what this is, has always known what this is. Yes I did sleep with a man. Cannabis and red wine and bravado and ah I wish.

  _Please come and get me. Here I am._

 And he did.     

  _He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me…_

When Pablo got the letter he didn’t know what to think. It seemed so genuine, so heartfelt. And Pablo is genuine and heartfelt so how could it be anything else?  He loves me and I love him, I do I do I do and my heart is soaring and a gentle sideways step out into the light and a small shy smile.

 And love is blind isn’t it. Read between the lines.

  _Loved the kissing but no sex? Not yet. Let’s wait. (Bruno the blushing virgin, come on?) Ditch the girlfriend. Need you to myself. Leave the girl. Need you. Need you, but don’t touch…_

 And yes he’s right. It’s not fair, not fair to Laura she trusts me and Pablo worried and concerned and thinking as he does, always of others heads over to Laura’s and tells her apologetically and so kindly that they need to take a break. Me not you, he insists. Me not you. And cycling home worried about Laura, hoping she won’t be too hurt, too sad.

 Pablo as a boy picked up bees and butterflies when they landed on the pavements and paths, moving them somewhere safer, higher up. He cried when he saw them crushed, the bright wings shattered. So pick them up and move them. He still does it when he thinks no-one is looking.

 And betrayal comes like a knife through the air, sharp and unseen. Bruno was fucking your girlfriend. He never loved you. And the pain is intense and Pablo just wants to crawl away and hide   

 And yes my love, I do see through your eyes (those lying eyes.) ‘Click’. What you see is not what you get. ‘Click’. I will lie to you and I will hurt you ‘click’ I will betray you and fuck you over. I thought you were my friend? You put your trust in the wrong man. (Snigger). Fag. And it’s the playground again and he’s a fag for not hitting and a fag for not cheating and a fag for liking music and a fag for being beautiful.

 Fag.

 He is not hard and men are hard here.

 And for the first time, Pablo does hit back, because no one has hurt him quite this much, ever.   

 Let’s have sex, my head explodes. Why not? You told me you loved me. Did you read what you wrote?

 So who is the fag here exactly then Bruno? You with your shirt off and your trousers half undone? Want me? Well I don’t want you. I never did. Never, ever. Who is the fag here, who, who Bruno?

 And still, in all this sorrowful anger which the lover of bees and butterflies and flowers and trees, cannot sustain, there is love. Go to her, she is free now (I made her so) you are free now (I made you so), stop this game, leave me. Maybe we can be friends. The first and only lie Pablo has ever told. 

 Lying on the bed afterwards as the cigarette burnt down to his fingers, Pablo felt the heat and smelt the skin singe and he didn’t care. The tears fell and he lay there all day. 

  

**Together**

_4 months later_

 And they are sitting together on the sofa, watching something with subtitles, hands entwined. Bruno’s fingers restless and caressing, tickling Pablo’s palm, rubbing his thumb. He can’t get enough of Pablo. He likes to just look at him, stare and stare while Pablo cooks, or talks or draws or even when Pablo’s taking a piss. Following him into the toilet to carry on the conversation, wanting always to be with him and near him. ‘ Would you come in here if I was having a shit?’ Pablo asks as Bruno follows him in for the 4th time that day. It amuses Pablo that Bruno has to think about it, ‘ _No_ ’ he says and grins ‘…. _It would take away some of your mystery_ ’ . They laugh. ‘ _You moron_ ’ says Pablo and after washing his hands he wanders off with Bruno behind him still talking.

 He’s like a drug for Bruno and it **should** scare him but he trusts Pablo implicitly.

 Pablo pours him a cup of beer and hands it to Bruno without asking him. He knows Bruno wants a drink, in the same way he knows Bruno rubbing Pablo’s arse means he wants to fling him down onto the bed and ravish him sideways.

 There is no embarrassment now for Bruno; he’ll have Pablo any which way he can as long as he can have him. Bruno even bought a book, an A-Z of Gay Sex. Pablo said ‘Shame it’s not a pop-up’ and they both snorted and then grew quiet as they turned the pages and then even quieter when Bruno found the DVD. Pablo bit his lip and Bruno pulled at his hair and they headed off to the TV. 

 The film tonight is long and Russian and full of meaningful shots of the sea, but Bruno likes his films like this and Pablo likes what Bruno likes and the evening is spent contentedly with Pablo’s legs on Bruno’s lap and the odd pause of the DVD and Bruno leaning over and saying ‘ Give us a kiss’.

 Cleaning their teeth together Pablo reaches out and touches Bruno’s cheek ‘eyelash’ he says and his fingers drop to Bruno’s beard and he wipes the toothpaste off that’s stuck there and tuts.

 Bruno takes on the job of telling their friends with his usual panache. He throws a large party at Victor’s house and drunk he switches off the music and announces that he and Pablo “are now gay”. There is cheering and clapping and Bruno holds up his glass to ‘salut’. Pablo behind him, anxious in the half darkness trying to push himself into the wall and disappear ‘ Why did you do that?’ he whispers’ ‘Do what? ‘Tell everyone like that?’, a shrug, ‘I love you’.  ‘You didn’t tell me you were going to do that’ Pablo hisses. But Bruno has moved on to talk to Ana and Pablo is left standing looking at his drink.

 And Bruno tells his Mother and his Father and his sister and his Grandmother and they are at first surprised (his sister less so..) but Bruno is so obviously happy and they love him and like Pablo and they are liberals and so all is well. Pablo to Bruno’s confusion does not tell his Mother. ‘I’m not ashamed’ he says after Bruno questions him ‘Let’s just take each day at a time’. And Bruno who is impatient and impetuous and also very much in love (he feels sick with it) feels a little twinge of fear, but pushes it away and pulls Pablo close.  

 Bruno makes all the decisions. He decides what shops they go to and which food to buy and whose flat they will stay in and on what night and what they will eat and who they will see and when, and Pablo cooks and Pablo cleans and Pablo tidies and organises.

 Bruno calls Pablo up all the time, when Pablo is out with clients, or waiting in a queue at the bank or changing the tyre on his bike. ‘Where are?‘ ‘What are you doing?’ ‘What are you wearing….?’

 And Bruno now takes the lead in bed, he flings Pablo down, he strips Pablo off, he licks him and kisses him and nuzzles him and sucks him and caresses and loves him passionately and gently and sometimes really rather too enthusiastically (last week he broke the bed).

 And Bruno is in 7th heaven. This is love! He has never felt this way before. He wants Pablo to move in, he must move in and to Bruno’s flat of course. Bruno’s flat is better and newer and has air con that doesn’t leak and a kitchen without mould. No matter that the balcony isn’t big enough for Pablo’s plants, or that Bruno doesn’t have a roof terrace where Pablo can sit and think and smoke.

 And Pablo quietly happy. Smiling to himself as he cycles through the city. Buying a small bead necklace that he knows Bruno will like. Arms around Bruno’s waist when he walks through the door and his head buried in the nape of Bruno’s neck. Breathing in him. Bliss. His man. His best friend. His lover.

 ‘ _Kiss me’_ says Pablo and Bruno does

  _‘I love you’_ Bruno says when the kiss stops and Pablo smiles and strokes his face. ‘ _Love you too’_.

 He tells Pablo every day that he loves him. When he wakes the first thing he sees is Pablo, Pablo opens his eyes and Bruno says _’ Love you’_ and kisses him, a long, slow, deep  kiss that might lead to making love.

 Bruno tells him he loves him when they meet on the way back from work, greeting him with a small hug and a kiss on the cheek, ‘ _Love you man’_ he says and Pablo smiles that broad, shy, lopsided smile, his eyes very dark and very big.

 Bruno tells him he loves him over dinner, as they drink wine and he reaches over and holds Pablo’s hand. He tells him he loves him as they sit and read, Pablo’s head resting on his shoulder. He tells him he loves him as they lie in bed - cuddling and kissing and talking and then he tells him he loves him soft and insistent and breathless as he touches and strokes and licks and thrusts.

 Today they sit on the floor of Bruno’s flat a pile of videos in front of them. Bruno is replacing them slowly with DVD’s and now is his annual sort through, what he sells what he keeps. Pablo holds up _Das Boot_ , ‘ _Sell_  'says Bruno, ' _got it on DVD_ ’, Pablo holds up _Twin Town_ , ‘ _No man, I love that film_ ’, ‘ _you have it on DVD_ ’, but Bruno stubbornly puts it back and Pablo now can’t see what sort of system Bruno is operating, a Bruno system probably, but he just smiles and reaches out a hand to Bruno’s hair and strokes a curl.

 As they sort, Bruno talks, ‘ _If you were, ummmm, an item of clothing what would you be_ ’, ‘ _An item of clothing_?’ Pablo giggles. ‘ _Yeah, like a, football shirt, or boxers’_ , ‘ _Underpants_?’ says Pablo, ‘ _You see me as a pair of underpants?_ ’ and Bruno inevitably as he must, says ‘ _I’d like to see you in your pants_ _(pause)_ _and then out of them_ ’ and he puts his hand up to his mouth smirking and lifts his eyebrows and watches as Pablo laughs and looks at the floor, ‘Bastard’ and then Bruno is grabbing him and wrestling him, climbing on top of him  and tickling and tickling ‘ Stop stop!’, ‘Nah you like it’ , ‘Stop it!!’ Pablo laughing and laughing and they wrestle, arms and legs and the warmth of their two bodies against each other and the laughter fades and then there is silence apart from moaning and whispering and giggling and the soft ‘flupmh’ of clothes hitting the floor.   

And Pablo does not notice (yet), that he does not have time to sit and smoke and think calmly, quietly, on his own because he is now never alone.

 He does not notice (yet) that he is not taking nearly as many photographs because his weekly slow meandering walks through the city have stopped. Bruno is far too fast and bored and wants to move and see and go here and there and ‘look a boat’ and ‘look a new bar’ and ‘look it’s Javier’ and ‘look it’s Ana’.

 He does not notice (yet) that he is being pushed into leaving the apartment that he loves, loves because of its light, its air and space.

 Pablo does not notice (yet) that he is only watching Bruno’s films and only listening to Bruno’s music.

 And Pablo has not yet started to think about two months of a friendship entirely based on a lie and the kind of person capable of that.

 But he will.  

   

**Space**

_“Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting.”_

_J.M. Barrie. Peter Pan_

‘So you will move in?’

 Pablo looks at the floor, his dark hair falling forward and then at Bruno ‘ Yes’ he says simply. Bruno smiles a broad wide smile that lights up his face. ‘It makes sense it’s my flat, I mean this is more central, we’ve got friends in the same block, my oven works, there’s more space, you know it just makes sense?’. But it isn’t a question. Bruno has already decided. Pablo nods and leans forward and holds Bruno’s face with both hands, ‘As long as we are together I don’t mind. You need to clean the bathroom occasionally though’ and they both laugh.

 And is there a moment of panic for Pablo here? A quick catch it now or it will be gone slither, a tiny holding of breath as it all goes a _little fast_? Maybe? 

 So a move is planned and a date was going to be set but for some reason Pablo becomes vague, ‘I have a photo shoot in La Plata at the University’ he says ‘For their prospectus and the website, it’s a big job, if I do well they've said they may offer me a contract as their photographer, it would mean a regular income, it needs some planning you know, so can we hold off until after that?’ Bruno nods and agrees but is impatient and something a little like fear gnaws at him. Hadn't he said the same kind of thing to Laura when she had wanted them to move in? Hadn't he ummed and ahhed cos really, truthfully he was bored shitless and wanted to move on. But no, this is Pablo and Pablo loves him. Doesn’t he?

 When the first heat of love fulfilled has cooled (slightly) and they drop into a routine and the official domesticity of living together looms, (a commitment Pablo does not shy away from, he is a man of commitment after all) a small space in Pablo’s brain clears. A tiny, tiny part where Bruno cannot invade and there a clear prism of doubt bubbles.

 Can I trust him?

 What am I doing?

 It’s going so fast.

 Bruno had lied to him. For two months he had created a friendship based entirely on the desire to deceive, hurt and use Pablo, a man he didn’t know. And he did it with ease; he slept with Laura and laughed with Pablo a few hours later. Pablo would have wanted to wash himself and scrub himself and be clean of the sweat and heat of betrayal, but not Bruno, he came right round and hugged him. Couldn’t he do that again, how would he know? And isn’t this all on his terms? All Bruno, Bruno, Bruno. Bruno decided to pursue and Bruno decided to confess and Bruno decided to move close and smile and kiss and Bruno chooses the food and Bruno picks out the clothes and Bruno says no not here, there and where are you and who are you and what would we be without each other? And what happens now if Bruno leaves? What would be left of Pablo?

 And yes ‘the Plan’ was stupid and yes as Bruno had admitted he never really liked Laura, let alone loved her (wasn’t that in someway worse?) and yes ‘the Plan’ had gone utterly wrong really quite soon and yes Bruno has fallen hard and madly and totally in love (he says) and would never, ever hurt Pablo again, not even his little finger on his right hand (kiss). But he had wanted to once and he had tried to once and where was that hurtful boy still? For he is a boy and not a man.

 Pablo has not told his Mother, he is not ashamed, he is not afraid, he will not be dishonest in love, but he needs to be certain of Bruno and he slowly realises he is not. Yet.

 Doubt spreads, like a canker. He sees betrayal in the cuddles Bruno has with Ana, betrayal when he’s at work with Victor and the cosy chats they have in corners and courtyards and over the phone.

 And although Pablo does love him (so much) and although Pablo cannot not see life without him (my Bruno) Pablo can’t see a path ahead. He thinks of the future and it is darkness.

 It comes to a head at a party. Ana’s this time. Ana cool and detached and sitting on the floor as the Ramones play on the stereo and Bruno grabbing Pablo and singing ‘Baby I love you’ and Pablo goes to get a beer (he has had quite a few) and comes back and can’t see Bruno. The flat is full and it is difficult to push through the people and Pablo feels hot and tired and wants to go home, but where is Bruno? Not in the front room, not on the balcony, heart stops as he checks the bedroom, but just a couple making out, not in the kitchen, where? And there he is coming in through the front door with two girls. Where has he been? Why did he go? Who the fuck are they? Bruno smiles and nods at Pablo and walks past him and yes Pablo knows logically that Bruno is doing nothing, would do nothing, but even so does he have to stand so close to them, does he have to play with that girl’s hair, does he have to tease and flirt. I am here thinks Pablo, I am here!

 And head fuggy with beer and jealousy and dizzy with the heat of the room packed full of bodies, all the fear and worries and concerns rush together and unite. What if I am just a phase? Bruno is not a grown up after all, Pablo knows this, but loves him for it. What if he stops loving me? Maybe Bruno’s love will pass as it has done with every other relationship he has had. How can I trust him? He lied to me. This is too fast, too fast, too fast and stop touching her fucking hair and….

 Pablo marches up to Bruno ‘Fuck you!, Fuck you’ and walks out. He is shaking. He feels sick. He never shouts. Never really shows his anger. All held down and pushed like seeds into the soil.

 Pablo walks and walks and he can hear Bruno behind him running, shouting, ‘Pablo, Pablo, hey, man, stop, come here, stop’ and he does and he turns and Bruno is there in front of him face contorted, he reaches out and put his hands on Pablo’s shoulders. ‘Love, what’s wrong?’

 And out it pours: ‘I can’t do this; I mean do I really know you? I mean you lied to me and you, you,… I was a stranger Bruno and you followed me and, and you lied and you never wanted …. I mean, you wanted to hurt me and how can you want to hurt anyone, even a stranger, you know I mean…  it’s just not right and how do I know you aren’t doing it now, this is just a game for you…and you suffocate me sometimes you know and…’ And then he cries, bitter tears, his body shaking, his arms by his side, nose wet, tears dripping down his mouth ‘ and you never, ever’ a hiccup ‘ ever clean the toilet, not even your own’ and even then in the breaking of his heart he sees the humour and laughs and sobs and his hair falls over his face and Bruno stands there silently, arms still, on Pablo’s shoulders. A tableau of a boy frozen.

 And Pablo walks off into the night, back to the flat he never moved out of and he has no idea if this is the end, he just needs to clear his head because Bruno is so present and so full on and so ‘there’ and somewhere in all of this Pablo has become a little lost.   

      

**The rest is silence**

Bruno dreams he is under the sea, he is being pulled down deep into the ocean and his hair is above his head and the bubbles are pouring from his nose, his ears, his mouth and the pressure in his lungs is crushing but he is going down because he is weighted down and he knows he will sink and suffocate and drown. Looking up he can see the sun, refracted and broken into shards across the water. It glistens and glimmers. The sea had seemed so inviting, its true power concealed. A little toe in here, a small paddle there, it’s warm so in you go and before you know it, here you are.   

 He wakes up in a sweat and reaches out instinctively to the left. Nothing and no-one just him in his flat with his working oven.

 Bruno jumps out of bed and heads into the kitchen, scrabbling around in the cupboard under the sink and in the darkness he finds the bleach and a scrubbing brush.  

 Flicking on the light in the bathroom he heads to the toilet.

 Two hours later Bruno’s hands are red and he stinks of bleach and the toilet never looked as clean as this even when it was new and Bruno is sitting on the floor hunched over, scrubbing brush in one hand and the other hand resting on the toilet seat, the empty bottle of bleach between his knees. He is weeping and snot and tears are dripping down his face and he watches his tears pool on the floor and he can’t stop crying and he stays like that until the dawn breaks.

 He calls Pablo and there is no reply, he leaves a message. He leaves three. He texts. He hears nothing.

 Pablo is out at the University, busy photographing students and academics in labs and the concert hall and in the theatre studio and in the lecture theatres and he blocks it all out, just for now. See life through this lense, ‘click’.    

 Bruno goes to work; he meets Victor at the entrance to the office block they are based in today. He is quiet and pale and Victor nods at his hands which are red and sore ‘ What you done?’, ‘Cleaned the toilet’ says Bruno distractedly ‘a lot’. Victor wrinkles his face up and says nothing and goes up towards the stairwell, bag in hand. He is used to Bruno saying odd things. He will wait and Bruno will tell him, he always does.  

 ‘He’s left me’,

 ‘It’s just a tiff’

 ‘I don’t know why he left, he..’

 ‘He’ll come back, he loves you’ 

 But Bruno isn't so sure.

 He thinks and thinks and as he wires in the light sockets it dawns on Bruno, for the second time (had he really forgotten so soon?) that Pablo does occasionally do things of his own volition.

 And yes Bruno had lied, but he wouldn't do it again and yes he had been devious but not now….not really….  

 Suffocating him. How? All he has done is love him and Bruno thinks and thinks but he doesn’t understand. Bruno is so certain of his love, he made a decision and there it is. He loves Pablo, there is no one and nothing else. Done. He sometimes forgets that not everyone is him.  

 And he phones again that evening and texts the following morning. But there is no reply and he calls again at lunchtime and calls again in the evening but there is no reply and now it is two days and three days and four and nothing…. and Bruno falls apart.

 He does not leave his flat. He cannot leave his flat now. On the 5th day of not hearing he had headed over to Pablo’s and rang on the bell, but Pablo was not there, or did not answer and Bruno sat on the step outside the main doorway and waited for 6 hours and Pablo did not come back. Bruno made his way home and threw up when he got into his bathroom.

 He phones again, he texts again. He writes a letter and posts it. But Pablo is at his Mother’s, away from the city and Bruno. Pablo’s phone is on his bedside table back in his flat and at some point the battery dies and all Bruno gets is message to say the phone is off.

 And Bruno calls Victor to say he is taking some holiday and then he goes to bed and does not get up for a week. He drinks too much, and eats too little and in his dreams Pablo is just around the corner, just out of reach, back always to him.

 Bruno’s hair is a tangled mess, he has not washed, he no longer cares. This is worse, far worse than the first time because now Bruno has no clue what to do. He has said all he can say, all he can do now is wait.

 Now Bruno knows what it is like to kiss Pablo and cuddle Pablo and talk and walk and be with Pablo knowing that he is really his, if Pablo never comes back (and it is dawning on Bruno that this may be a reality) he is not sure what will become of him.

 Bruno is supposed to be back at work and he looks at himself in the mirror and he looks like shit and he tries to brush his hair and the comb gets stuck and Bruno thinks I’m 31, I can’t even brush my own fucking hair, oh what’s the fucking point?

 He lies down on the hallway floor and stares up at the ceiling and as if he is answering a silent question he nods, gets up and walks slowly to the kitchen, gets some scissors and then turns to get his razor from the bathroom.     

 Victor is worried now as Bruno has not turned up for work for two days and will not answer his phone. So Victor calls Ana who lives below and she has been round and gets no reply and unusually for Ana she sounds anxious when she calls Victor back, so Victor heads over to Bruno’s flat parking his little farty van outside the apartment block.

 He knocks, there is no answer, he knocks again, no answer, maybe Bruno is not in? He lifts the letterbox, ‘Bruno, Bruno, what the fuck man, let me in, I can see you’.  And Bruno comes to the door. He stinks of booze and cigarettes, he is unwashed and his head is shaved.

 ‘Fuck, oh Bruno, Bruno’ Victor croons and walks in and hugs him and holds him. ‘Come on man, I’ll get you some coffee and please do go take a shower’.

 He doesn’t mention his hair. To be truthful Victor is scared by this. Bruno loves his hair, loves it long, ‘Do I look like Sergio Batista in his glory days?’ he had asked Victor once ‘No you look like a twat’ and they’d both laughed.

 Back home Victor phones Marisa his girlfriend ‘He looked like a little shorn lion, it’s fucked up, I need to help him’ and he does.

  He goes round the following day to pick him up for work and the day after and the day after that and Marisa cooks food and they both take it over and watch him eat and Bruno is silent and pale and listless and Victor says ‘Right, fuck this I’ve had enough’ and he drives over to see Pablo.

 Pablo finished his work at the University and after asking his neighbour to water his plants had packed a small bag and headed off on the train to stay with his Mother.  He’d ignored the phone calls and the letters and the emails but had picked up and put in a vase the small bunch of white roses left on his doorstep, wilting as they were in the hot afternoon sun.

 Pablo’s Mother had not questioned his reason for arriving out of the blue, she had just hugged him and held him and had made up the bed in his old room. Later that evening they sat together in companionable silence after dinner, a unit of two, as it had been ever since Pablo’s Father’s death.

 And the days pass. Pablo reading and smoking and sleeping and thinking because finally he has time to think. He does not consider, cannot consider that Bruno may be unhappy, Pablo knows that he needs to make a decision and that it will impact on his entire life. Bruno is a big boy, Bruno will cope.     

  ‘Mum, when you met Dad, how did you know it would last?’ he asks as they sit in the garden one evening, the sun setting, and his Mother smiles, she knew this was about love. Knows her son. ‘ I didn’t’. And Pablo looks at her. ‘ Sometimes you just have to take that leap Pablo, have a bit of faith, you know?’ and she tilts her head to one side and contemplates her beautiful boy and her heart aches a little as she sees his Father in him, around the nose and the soft sensuous mouth.

 Pablo’s Father - a good man, a serious man, a political man, a brave man, who went out one day and never came back…. just disappeared…

 ‘Nothing in life is certain, you just take the chance and see where it goes. When I met your Father I loved him more than anyone I had ever met and he was so funny, so very funny’. She pauses and looks off into the distance and then a small shake of her shoulders and ‘More wine?’ and she fills up his glass. Pablo finishes his cigarette and goes into his room and packs his bag. He comes back, sits down and finally tells his mother.

 

**Coming Home**

 Victor knocks and shouts and won’t go until Pablo lets him in, he knows he is in because Pablo is playing his records at full blast. And he’s about to shout at Pablo until he sees that Pablo looks awful and his eyes are red. He has his phone in his hand ‘I didn’t know’ he says helplessly. ‘I thought he’d be fine’. Oh fuck thinks Victor, fucking Bruno and being in love. ‘Get in the car’ says Victor and Pablo doesn’t protest.  ‘You love him?’ asks Victor. ‘’Yes’ says Pablo quietly. ‘So why did you walk out man?’ I don’t know’ Pablo says looking at his hands, ‘I think I got scared‘. And Victor understands fear; he is planning to ask Marisa to marry him and the thought keeps him up at night, but he loves her and will do it, at some point..

 And when Pablo sees Bruno his mouth makes a small ‘o’ of surprise and his face crumples and his eyes fill. Victor thinks he will get washed away by all these tears and that it was easier when Bruno was straight and Victor just dealt with phone calls from wailing girlfriends.

 Pablo walks over to Bruno, Bruno who stands quiet and unsure in the hallway, so quiet, so un-Bruno-like and Pablo puts his arms around him and pulls him close and kisses his cheek softly and strokes his poor, shaved head and whispers all the things that will make it better like _so sorry_ and _my love_ and _forever_ and Bruno cries and says ‘the toilet is clean, really, really clean’ and neither of them laugh.         

 

**2014**

_"Just always be waiting for me."_

_J.M Barrie. Peter Pan_

 

 And there are two bicycles in the entrance hall of Pablo’s flat.

 The ivy is thick and dense now and has grown all along the high wall and numerous flowering plants in pots scent the afternoon air. The kitchen painted azure blue, boasts new handmade cupboards, on the walls framed photos of mountains and rivers, secret paths, graveyards, parks and roads at obscure angles  -see the world through my eyes ‘click’. There is a fruit-bowl on the kitchen table piled high with green apples, two empty cups of coffee and a half eaten bag of alfajores.            

 And here (quick) take a peak into the spare bedroom (as was), where Bruno sulked. There is now a red sofa and a television, a coffee table with a red table cloth and on the bookcase amongst the books, CD’s, DVD’s (and videos), a small bucket and spade and a view-master taking pride of place on the centre shelf.

 The shower is running and laughter can be heard from behind the closed bathroom door, so let’s walk past and into the bedroom. It is quiet and dark and cool here, above the bed a large black and white photograph of a sleeping bearded man, he is on his back, his arms above his head, his chest bare and his long, curled hair splayed out against the pillow like a halo.

 On the bedside table a red lamp, a glass full of water, two wrist watches, two mobile phones and a DVD of the 15th series of Blind. And what’s this? A photograph in a gilt frame,  two men, hands clasped, both looking at each other, the smaller darker man is laughing, the taller bearded man, half smiling, eyes shining, they are dressed in matching blue suits, white roses in their lapels and the rice falls around them like stars….

               


End file.
